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by daleksanddetectives
Summary: When John convinced Sherlock to upload a video of himself playing the violin to the internet, they had no idea how popular it would get. [Teenlock AU & established relationship]
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock shuts his laptop with a groan, folding his arms on the lid and burying his face in his jumper.

"Jooohn."

His voice is muffled by the fabric, but the boy lying on the bed reading looks up.

"Yes?"

"My blood splatter and ash videos haven't been getting any views."

"Just keep making them. You'll get noticed soon enough. They're interesting and if you're into forensics they're really helpful," John shrugs, "and you have a nice voice now it's finished breaking."

"You're biased. You just like my voice."

"Problem?" John smirks.

"Mm," Sherlock rolls his eyes. He stands and picks up the violin he'd left at John's feet. He swipes the bow across the strings, "name a song."

"What's that one you did the other day? The Elvis one?"

Sherlock thinks for a moment before launching himself into the song. John smiles and rests his face in a cupped palm, watching Sherlock sway gently with the music. When the song ends, Sherlock stands in the middle of him room pouting and looking a bit lost.

"Come here," John rolls onto his side and motions for Sherlock to join him on the bed. Sherlock stretches out on his back beside his boyfriend, inviting him to rest his head on his shoulder.

"You should record some of the songs you play on your violin," John says, snuggling into Sherlock's side and gently pulling his curls, "record them and stick them online. People like classical covers of stuff."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, "record with what? I used the camera on my laptop for my other videos and the sound quality is terrible. The only other thing I have is my phone, and that's equally as bad."

Propping his chin on Sherlock's chest, John smiles gently, "do one or two and see how it goes, you never know. Popularity on the internet can be pretty random."

Sherlock frowns, "the only people I play for are myself, you, and occasionally my parents. Even Mycroft doesn't want to hear me. I doubt the rest of the world would want to hear my screeching."

"I'm not going to force you, but you play beautifully and you somehow suit the violin. You complement each other."

"I'll think about it."

John shuffles up and presses a gentle kiss against Sherlock's lips, "good. Now come on, I need help with my biology homework and you promised to read it through for me."

Sherlock sighs but takes the papers that are handed to him.

* * *

A few days later, Sherlock leans back in his desk chair, "John? Are you still awake?"

John had gone home with Sherlock to spend Friday evening together, and Sherlock had insisted that John stay over for the weekend. The boy in question sleepily sits up and shuffles over, wearing the duvet like a cape, "what's up?"

"I did what you told me to."

John blinks slowly.

"Sherlock, I tell you to do a lot of things and most of them I doubt you even listen to," he rubs his eyes, "what have you done and is it legal?"

Rolling his eyes Sherlock clicks a few things on his laptop and opens a video, "I recorded myself playing a song."

He presses play and they stay silent for the two and a half minutes it runs. Sherlock watches John carefully for his reaction.

"The music sounds great but, did you film this in your pyjamas?" Sherlock nods, "you should have worn one of your nice shirts. It's a little dark too; you could do with better lighting. Besides that though, it sounds great. I don't know what you meant when you said the sound quality is bad."

"I know, I used Mycroft's camera. He forgot it when he left last and I found it in his room," Sherlock says, steepling his fingers, "this was a test run. You know what people want to see, I wanted to ask for your advice."

John smiles and squeezes Sherlock's shoulder.

"Come on, it's past midnight. Let's go to sleep and we can do this properly in the morning, when there's decent lighting, yeah? We'll do your hair and you can wear that posh shirt and make a really good video."

Sherlock sighs, trying to hide his smile, and shuts the laptop. He allows John to pull him back to the bed and position him at his back, pulling Sherlock's arm over his own waist and snuggling in against him. John drops off quickly. He's breathing heavily within minutes while Sherlock closes his eyes and taps out rhythms on John's stomach. He runs through all the songs he knows John enjoys and thinks about the videos he could make for them. With John's help, of course.

This YouTube idea was starting to sound not too bad at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock woke the next morning to John puttering about his room in his pyjamas and with Sherlock's dressing gown thrown over his shoulders. He smiles when he hears Sherlock snuffle.

"Y'know," he says, "you should probably considering tidying in here once in a while. It's a tip."

Sherlock presses his nose into the pillow, "it's clean sometimes."

"I spend half my time here, it's really not."

"I did tidy it the other day," he hums, "then I couldn't find my chemistry book."

"So you tore the place apart?"

Sherlock would swear he could almost hear John's exasperated eye roll. He winces when the duvet is torn off him and John cheerily tells him to get up.

With a groan, he does and drapes himself over John.

"Go make yourself useful and make breakfast or get dressed."

Sherlock grunts and shuffles into the bathroom.

Half an hour later he emerges with his damp curls stuck to his forehead and wearing the shirt he knows John likes on him. He finds John still in his pyjamas, fiddling with the camera with a bacon and egg sandwich waiting for him on the desk.

"I cleared a space for you," John points at a stool sat against the wall, "and the camera looks pretty easy to use, so whenever you're ready we can start."

Sherlock wolfs down the sandwich quickly and lets John comb his hair. His mum comes into the room at one point with some laundry and asks what they're up to so early on a Saturday morning. John grins at her.

"Making your son an internet sensation."

Sherlock snorts at him, "unlikely. You're doing this because you like me in shirts with my hair done."

"That too," John smirks, "and if I didn't, you wouldn't get dressed. Ever. Mrs Holmes, what did you do before he met me?"

Sherlock's mum laughs and leaves Sherlock's washing on the end of the bed, "I gave up trying to get him dressed after he decided he could dress himself. Have fun and let me know when you're ready for lunch."

Once John is satisfied with Sherlock's hair he presses a kiss to his curls and goes to find his own clothes. He's quick about it and when he returns Sherlock has his violin resting on his lap. He plucks gently at the strings and turns the pegs, frowning until he's satisfied with the sound.

"Sorted?"

Sherlock hums.

"Remember, it doesn't have to be perfect first time," John reassures, looking into the back of the camera and straightening the framing.

In reply he gets a sour look and an angry sounding sweep of the bow across the strings, "I know that, John."

John rolls his eyes, "ready when you are. Do you want a practise run?"

"I'll be fine."

"Righto."

Sherlock perches on the stool and tucks his violin under his chin. John mouths a countdown from three at him and gently presses record.

No sooner after Sherlock has lowered the violin, he has an armful of John with insistent lips moving against his own.

Sherlock looks up with a dazed smile when they break for breath, "what was that for?"

"It's unfair how gorgeous you look when you're playing. Your face is so serene and your tiny movements," he makes a frustrated noise, "this video is going to look brilliant."

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow, "we'll see about that."

He shoves John off his lap and sets his instrument in its case. John picks up the camera and sits back on Sherlock's knee. He fiddles with it for a few seconds and then the video is playing back for them, the music filling the room.

"See?" John grins, "brilliant."

Sherlock hums, "that's on a tiny screen and a tinny speaker. Get it on the laptop and we'll see how brilliant it is then."

John raises an eyebrow but goes to boot up the laptop anyway. He plugs the camera into it and clicks open the video. It loads and plays automatically, sounding just as impressive as it had live.

"Of course you would get it perfect first go," John mutters.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "I've been playing that song for years. It's easy now. Mummy has me play it every Christmas when we have family over, much to their annoyance."

"Start thinking about others you want to do. I know if I leave you to your own devices after this you'll never get another one done."

Sherlock frowns but accepts it.

"That looks and sounds alright then," John hums, flicking to the end of the video, "happy with it?"

"You can see half of my periodic table on the left."

John shrugs, "that's fine, shows a little more about you. People are nosy, they'll like that."

He fiddles around with the video software before opening the internet browser and clicking YouTube. He goes straight to the upload button.

"Did you want to start a new channel or just stick it on your old one?"

"I like the name of the one I have, put it on there."

John smiles as he clicks upload, "I can't believe you actually got your name as your username without having to add a string of numbers."

"Sometimes having an unusual name has its perks," he smirks.

"What do you want to call it?"

Sherlock blinks, "the name of the song might be helpful."

John nudges his boyfriend's ribs with his elbow, "don't be a berk. What else do you want to put? I've tagged it and titled it, description?"

"Copy and paste the title. There isn't much to say about it."

John does as he's told and leans back and smiles, "would you like to do the honours?"

Leaning over John's shoulders, Sherlock takes the mouse and clicks the save button.

"Well, that's that," John says, tilting his head back, "now we wait and see what happens."

Sherlock sighs, "you know I hate waiting."

"I can distract you; I'm an expert in that now. I'll find that video of the cat falling off the shelf," John says, already typing in the search bar.

"Oh God, not that again."


End file.
